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The way she said that. The way she looked at me. Sometimes there was so much love in her voice that I just couldn’t stand it.
But love was always something heavy for me. Something I had to carry.
Another secret of the universe: Sometimes pain was like a storm that came out of nowhere. The clearest summer morning could end in a downpour. Could end in lightning and thunder.
Maybe we just lived between hurting and healing. Like my father. I think that’s where he lived. In that in-between space. In that ecotone.
